


With Eyes Squeezed Shut

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Sharing a Bed, feelings ramble, theyre both so OBVIOUS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 10:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12555680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: They share beds sometimes. It's not a big deal.(Prompto just wishes it was.)





	With Eyes Squeezed Shut

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Achrya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/gifts).



> HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE VERY LOVELY ACHRYA!!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3!!!
> 
> How long has it been since I wrote something for you? Too, too long, my friend. I miss it and you're lacking, I do believe. You deserve much more presents and gifts. 
> 
> So, of course, when I write my first FFXV fic (glompto no less), it's for you. That's not a surprise, actually. I think it's kind of fitting, being as you're a large (almost entirely) part of why I even cared so much about the game in the first place. So, here's something a little different than what I usually write ( ~~as dear C said, "you did a _me_ thing! u focused on feelings and all that"~~ ). I do hope you like it. In spite of so? Because of? Either way?
> 
> Anyway, many thanks to dear [C](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFullmidgetAlchemist/profile) and [Turqii](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Turq_I/profile), who beta'd for me and helped fix up some pieces that didn't fit beforehand. I _never_ beta, so this is all for you, Achrya. Hope today's been a great one.  <3

                They don’t get to spend nights inside often. Sometimes they’re lucky enough to find a barn of sorts, either an abandoned one, or one where they’d be allowed to stay by the owners, but at inns? That’s a privilege they find only rarely. The currency here is different and they have very little of it, and they already have supplies to give them places to sleep when day falls to night. So, when Prompto sees Noctis steering his ride towards a modest building instead of just continuing down the dirt road, it’s a bit of surprise. A welcoming one though, one of actual beds, even if it’s feathers that poke at him in the middle of the night instead of rocks. If they’re lucky, they might even get breakfast.

 

               What doesn’t turn out to be a surprise, however, is the way the rooming system is set up. Two rooms, as usual, because it’s the cheapest they can afford while still finding a way to fit everyone onto a bed. He and Gladio are thrown together because they’re the biggest and the smallest of the group, respectively (though Prompto knows it’s also because Gladio’s pretty much a bear who attempts death chokes in his sleep while practically sweating his bedmates to death, and Prompto drools – things that neither of them mind of each other, but that the other two apparently mind). Prompto can’t say he cares too much, not when Noct sprawls in his sleep, twitching ever so often. This is only combated by the fact that Ignis sleeps like the dead, unmoving, unawakenable, practically unbreathing until the sun rises. Well, maybe he cares, but not in a way that’ll warrant any complaining (not that he’d get away with it, either, when they’ve been doing this for a while and he’d need a reason to start getting upset about it now).

 

               He mostly cares in the way that he doesn’t talk about, doesn’t think about unless he has some time to himself, or they’re on the road and nobody is expecting any kind of conversation out of him. He cares about Gladio’s heat, about how he can tell when Gladio’s just fallen past the point of consciousness because he flips over as if restless, grasping Prompto around the waist and tugging him in tightly, like he’s honing in on any other source of body heat under the covers. He cares enough to imagine what it would be like if they slept already tucked against each other, if he could still tell when Gladio passed out by the way his fingers would maybe flex on his stomach before pulling him closer. He cares so much that he notices, every time, with a falling sensation from his chest to his stomach, that in the mornings, Gladio is always gone, up before him, sheets chilling beside him, already started on his morning run. He cares about himself too much not to think about Gladio one day waiting for him to wake too, still holding him, and what that would imply. He knows better than that.

 

               Sometimes, though, he slips up. Like now, he realizes, as they’re walking into their rooms, and he’s still thinking about these things, and he hasn’t said a word. He’s been a little less excitable about the fact that they’ve got a roof over them and comfortable linen under them than he usually is, and it’s clear that Gladio has taken notice of this by the glance out of the corner of his eye he gives Prompto. There’s no point to try and save it now, he knows, so he doesn’t try, though he does give his friend a quick smile to hopefully prove that there’s nothing to worry over. Gladio does watch him for another few seconds, but by then they’ve arrived at their door and now he has to pull out their key and unlock it, so he turns away to do so.

 

               His smile drops as soon as Gladio’s eyes are off of him, like some kind of reaction to no longer being under his gaze. Prompto continues to stare at him as he gets the door open, wondering something of his own, too. Normally it isn’t as if Gladio is all that quiet either, and if he sees one of the group acting a little out of character he’ll call them out on it without a second thought. It isn’t as if something had happened earlier to bring this kind of silence, not for either of them, so he’s a little curious to know why they’re both silent now. He knows why he is – just a matter of it being that kind of day, one with a little more time spent in his head than another – but Gladio himself is another matter entirely.

 

               He knows that asking will have the question turned around on him, and he isn’t sure if he wants that, even if his answer (“Just thinkin’, is all.”) would probably be just fine. Today’s not the day to risk it. And, he knows, as they step into the room, unloading their stuff onto the bed, that he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle the next few hours in this room - quiet or not. Not without some time alone to himself, that is.

 

               “I’ll unpack when I get back,” he mutters quickly, putting everything away except for knife which he holds out in plain sight so Gladio will know he isn’t forgetting to keep himself unarmed in unfamiliar areas. He knows he didn’t mention where he was planning on heading, and usually that’s something they all frown over, wanting to know where everyone is at all times and all that, but he’s in a bit of a rush to get some time out from under Gladio’s concerned, watchful eyes. He doesn’t give him a chance to argue it, really, before he’s out and rushing back outside, past the near-empty lobby, filled only with the stragglers getting late dinners. They don’t pay him any more mind than he pays them.

 

               He makes it outside fairly quickly, and after spending a minute to breeze through the stables and brush a hand down the snout of his horse, he’s soon out back in the woods that surround the small building. The walls on the outside are just as quaint as they are on in the inside, clean enough to show they’re kept up with, but not made of any fancy material, not too much to look at – though that doesn’t matter when it’s the only inn in about a half day’s ride in just about any direction. As far as places he’s spent the night in, it isn’t all that bad.

 

               Still, he falls back between the trees, far enough that he blends in enough for an untrained eye, but not so far he wouldn’t see if someone came looking for him. He lets out a sigh he hadn’t known he’d been building up in his lungs, and sags against one of the trees. The bark digging into his back is a grounding contrast to the way his clammy hands feel as he slides them down his pant legs, but he knows in a couple minutes it’ll only be distracting. Nevertheless, he takes a deep breath in, and tries to ignore it as he instead focuses on what he’d been thinking of earlier, of mornings not alone, and arms wrapped around his waist.

 

               His hand twitches against his thigh and as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, eyes shuttering closed, he lets himself go.

 

* * *

 

           

               When he comes back, his biggest worries are that the flush on his face could be attributed to something more than the cold outside, that he smells, or that there’s an obvious staining. He hadn’t even thought about what he’d need to do if Gladio was already sleeping – early, but not an uncommon thing, sometimes – and how to not wake him up. He’s had to find ways around that before, of course, but it’s not really his favorite activity. Thankfully, that isn’t something he has to face when he gets back.

 

               Gladio isn’t asleep when he walks in, though he does seem ready for bed. He’s shirtless and shoeless, in a pair of his softer pants, sitting on the edge of the mattress. He looks almost like he’s been… waiting for Prompto to get back. The thought brings an immediate surge of guilt up, effectively overpowering anything lingering from his time alone. Prompto quickly moves to shut the door behind him, leaning against it. He isn’t sure what to say, how to babble out an apology for making Gladio worry like this, when all he wanted was some more time to think, without it seeming as if he’s only saying it because he knows Gladio isn’t happy about it.

 

               Before he can, however, or even think about saying nothing and just getting dressed to sleep as well, Gladio beats him to it. He pushes down the book, one he'd apparently been reading as he waited for Prompto to get back, down from his lap to the bed. Without taking his eyes off of Prompto's face and with an expression that almost looks shy in its apprehensiveness, he asks with that gruff voice that Prompto only ever hears when someone is hurt or Gladio is exhausted to the point of keeling over, "You tired?"

               And… Prompto didn’t think he’d be, really. Just a minute ago he would have shook his head, or piped something about how the birds are still awake so it can’t be quite time for bed, but it’s as if the question itself changes that, because his shoulders slump without him thinking about it, and yeah. Yeah, he’s pretty tired. He doesn’t know if he just didn’t know it, or if it’s the relief of not having to find a way to bumble through finding the words to make up for his mistake, or if it’s just that look on Gladio’s face, but he knows at this very moment that he wants nothing more than to just crawl under those covers and let Gladio’s warmth lull him to unconsciousness. So, he nods, and finds his feet stepping forward to the bed for him as his arms slip his jacket off, slowly, mechanically. His brain’s on an entirely different train of thought than undressing, instead thinking about how this night’s probably not going to be anything but how it usually is, or what he’ll wake to in the morning.

 

               He spares a second to twist his head and peer over at Gladio, who’s already put up his book and is moving to turn off the oil lamps. He has a couple moments here to admire the muscles of his back in this lighting, where they glow and the black tattoos only draw them out more, all without being questioned about it. Soon enough, he knows, he’ll have to turn back to his own self, and pull off the rest of the clothes he doesn’t want to sleep in, and drop his shoes far enough from the bed so that he doesn’t trip on them when he wakes up. He’s back to looking down at his knees and the growing pile of cloth again by the time Gladio puffs out a breath to extinguish their light, but the images still remain and leave his mind spiraling with them.

 

               He chances another glimpse and pauses at finding Gladio already looking back at him as he lifts up one of the sheets and sinks between them, small smile on his face. Prompto doesn’t know what quite to do with it, other than stare back, with his own mouth falling just barely open. Though it’s dark, Gladio seems to have noticed this, as one half of his grin grows subtly up one side of his face before he lets out what is too firm to be a whisper, but too quiet to be much else, “Night, Prom.”

 

               He hopes he isn’t too obvious when he turns quickly from that, but if Gladio can see him gaping, even the smallest bit, he’ll surely see if Prompto flushes at his words, and that’s not something he plans on willingly sharing with the world. So he focuses back on his clothes for sure this time, quickening because it’s dark now and he wants to sleep, and tries not to make his words sound like a bashful grumble when he wishes Gladio a goodnight back.

 

               No, this night isn’t going to be any different, other than this, he knows. But it isn’t like usual is all that bad, either.

**Author's Note:**

> [Achrya's tumblr](http://achryathesecond.tumblr.com/), full of her amazing writing, ffxv, and other fun stuff. 
> 
> [Here](http://overmyfreckledbody.tumblr.com/post/166927548883/happy-birthday-to-the-terrific-achryadaiako), you can reblog/like a link to this fic on tumblr.


End file.
